


To Love

by bornforwar_archivist



Category: Dark Angel
Genre: Angst, F/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-31
Updated: 2006-12-31
Packaged: 2018-10-07 07:36:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10355379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bornforwar_archivist/pseuds/bornforwar_archivist
Summary: By Rhasa. Alec sacrifices everything for Max





	

**Author's Note:**

> _Note from Delenn, the archivist: this story was originally archived at[Born For War](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Born_For_War), which closed in 2015. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in March 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Born For War collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bornforwar)._
> 
> Keywords: violence, Max/Alec may still appeal to shippers.  
> WARNING: This is a Alec loves Max piece but it isn't pretty.  
> Category: Angst   
> Rating: R for disturbing subject matter not graphic.
> 
> Summary: Alec sacrifices everything for Max
> 
> Disclaimer: The characters of Max,Alec and Logan and Dark Angel are not mine. No money is being made. No infringement intended. 
> 
> AN: This piece came from a deep dark place and hopefully it will go back there when I'm done.
> 
> Feedback: I would love to hear from... well anyone. I don't even know if I'm posting this right. I hate what I did to the characters in this piece, but the idea just wouldn't leave me. Let me know what you think

"So how'd it go?"  
  
  
  
"I don't want to talk about it."  
  
  
  
"Okay."  
  
  
  
I let it go. I could see she was upset. There was no  
  
way she was going to open up to me and I'm not sure  
  
that I really wanted her to. Well, no, that's not  
  
entirely true. Of course I wanted her to open up to  
  
me. I wanted her to bare her soul to me but not if it  
  
contained any thoughts of Logan.  
  
  
  
I still don't understand just what it is about her.  
  
What are the qualities that make her so different to  
  
any other woman I have ever known. That in and of  
  
itself is really a ridiculous thought. Most of the  
  
women I have known have had certain qualities that  
  
would make a normal man's head spin - but then again I  
  
am not a normal man. I've had other breeding partners.  
  
Before Max came I had been with half a dozen X5's. But  
  
there is something about her... I used to think that  
  
it was her sense of justice, her individuality her  
  
desire to be free, owned by no man. But that's not  
  
really it.  
  
  
  
They say she is perfect. She is special. She has  
  
something that They desire. Something invaluable,  
  
highly prized. the only thing I can think of is her  
  
passion. No one else from inside or outside of  
  
Manticore has passion like Max. And that passion comes  
  
in so many forms. She has a passion for justice, she  
  
likes to make the bad guys pay - big time- as she  
  
would say - but it's a form of passion. She has a  
  
passion for the weak, the hurt, vulnerable, outsiders  
  
\- Joshua is proof enough of that, but the passion she  
  
has for those she's close to is something else  
  
altogether.  
  
  
  
I never even considered that I would have entered her  
  
thoughts when I was going through my own private  
  
"Rachel-hell", but somehow I did. She cared. She cared  
  
about how I was feeling, what I was going through. She  
  
didn't save my ass to prove a point, to make me  
  
indebted to her, and believe me I have come across a  
  
few individuals who have had that agenda in mind in  
  
their dealings with me in the past - she saved my butt  
  
because she could see how much pain I was in. She did  
  
it just for me. To make me feel better. For my sake.  
  
No one has ever done anything for me for just my sake  
  
ever before. She has this passion for her friends that  
  
is truly unique. But her passion for Logan is  
  
something else entirely.  
  
  
  
The way she looks at him...  
  
  
  
I wish she would look at me that way. To be the focus  
  
of her universe is to be in a world all your own. Does  
  
that schmuck know how lucky he is? I guess he does,  
  
Asha told me that he never gave up on her; that he was  
  
devastated by her apparent death but still he never  
  
gave up hope...  
  
  
  
Talk about dedication.  
  
  
  
How pathetic.  
  
  
  
But then I can't talk.  
  
  
  
I can see what he sees in her.  
  
  
  
I would lay down my life for her.  
  
  
  
I can't help it. Somehow, and I'm still trying to  
  
figure out how exactly, she's gotten so far under my  
  
skin, so deep inside that I can't seem to let the  
  
thought of her go. I don't know if we belong together,  
  
but I sure as hell want her like I have never wanted  
  
another woman in my life before. And I'm not just  
  
talking about sex here either - yeah aint' that a  
  
surprise. I'm talking about... hell I don't know. I  
  
want her approval. I want her to be proud of me. I  
  
want her to think of me and smile, I want her to hold  
  
me and somehow fill that hole inside of me that I have  
  
only known existed since my escape from Manticore -  
  
that emptiness, that loneliness, that void... I know  
  
Max's touch could fill that.  
  
  
  
But who am I kidding. That's never going to happen.  
  
Not in this lifetime, pal. All her thoughts, all her  
  
smiles, her hugs, if she could hug him, are for Logan.  
  
Logan is the centre of her universe. Not me.  
  
  
  
I'm going crazy thinking of all this stuff. I need a  
  
drink. Several drinks. Who knows perhaps I'll run into  
  
Asha - she's no Max but I'll guess she'll do. I feel  
  
sorry for her. I figure she feels the same way about  
  
Logan as I do about Max. Unrequited love is a bitch.  
  
  
  
Maybe if I fuck Asha's brains out, I'll forget about  
  
Max for an hour or so.  
  
  
  
Doubt it.  
  
  
  
I could bury myself deep inside her and pray that I  
  
would be burying my soul. Who knows I might even find  
  
the experience pleasurable, although sex has been all  
  
but pleasurable since I was assigned as a breeding  
  
partner to Max Guevera.  
  
  
  
Before meeting Max, no X5 had refused me. Hell, since  
  
meeting Max no X5 or civilian has refused me if I have  
  
really tried. I guess if there was all that pseudo  
  
psycho bullshit that used to pass for pre pulse  
  
therapy around then theories would abound that I'm  
  
only infatuated with Max, I only want her badly,  
  
because I know I can't have her.  
  
  
  
And maybe they'd be right. Part of me hopes they'd be  
  
right. I hope that someone will explain this little  
  
situation I seem to have gotten myself into. Maybe  
  
there's a cure. I thought for a short time that  
  
Rachel, back from the dead, could possibly be a cure.  
  
I had loved Rachel once. In a lot of ways, Max reminds  
  
me of Rachel. hell, wouldn't a shrink have a field day  
  
with that little revelation. There are the physical  
  
similarities of course, okay so not much of a physical  
  
similarity - dark hair, beautiful face, deep  
  
mysterious eyes... But there are other things, subtle  
  
things, mannerisms that others would have not  
  
catalogued and referenced that are only known to me.  
  
They share some of those. Maybe it's the familiarity  
  
that makes me so smitten with Max. No, Max could never  
  
be someone you could become entirely familiar with.  
  
She's an enigma.  
  
  
  
Oh god, deliver me.  
  
  
  
I wish there was a god. Then she would really be an  
  
angel. A dark mysterious angel...  
  
  
  
To be revered and never to be touched.  
  
  
  
Untouchable Max. Well she was within arms reach for a  
  
moment there. Ten hours may not seem like much to the  
  
average Joe but to me it would have been enough. I  
  
couldn't believe it when I worked out that they hadn't  
  
consummated their relationship within that time frame  
  
much less in the year they had known each other before  
  
her resurrection from the dead at Manticore. What the  
  
hell were they waiting for. I swear if I was Logan I  
  
would have taken her right there on the cold  
  
floorboards of his apartment in the first five  
  
minutes. Damn gossamer. I would have then taken her  
  
every other place I could have imagined given a ten  
  
hour time frame. What such a blessing would have done  
  
to my soul. The act of loving her would have  
  
transpired the mere physical release.  
  
  
  
But somehow Logan and Max screwed it up - again. Which  
  
makes me wonder if they really do want to get  
  
together. I mean anyone else in their right mind would  
  
have forgone the foreplay. What are they trying to  
  
prove to one another? Are they scared of the real  
  
thing? Have they made the not having one another so  
  
big a deal that to actually have one another would  
  
mean only disappointment to them??? What is it with  
  
those two??  
  
  
  
I may not understand their needs but I respect them. I  
  
gave them some privacy in the last few minutes they  
  
could hang on to one another. Not much good it did  
  
them though.  
  
  
  
It was a few hours later that I found Max sitting in  
  
an old Chevrolet crying her eyes out.  
  
  
  
"So how'd it go?"  
  
  
  
"I don't want to talk about it."  
  
  
  
"Okay."  
  
  
  
I let it go. I could see she was upset. There was no  
  
way she was going to open up to me and I'm not sure  
  
that I really wanted her to. Well, no, that's not  
  
entirely true. Of course I wanted her to open up to  
  
me. I wanted her to bare her soul to me but not if her  
  
confessions contained any thoughts of Logan.  
  
  
  
I wasn't surprised that she kept me at arm's length.  
  
It's not like we've ever been close - despite how much  
  
I would like us to be. But I had to wonder, did she  
  
need me, when a few days later she walked into Jam  
  
Pony looking like she had done nothing but sob her  
  
eyes out for the past few days.  
  
  
  
I couldn't bear it any longer. I knew any attempts at  
  
conversation I'd make would be shot down. That was  
  
Max's style. But I couldn't help myself. I walked up  
  
to her as she leant her forehead against her locker  
  
door and asked her how she was doing.  
  
  
  
She shook her head. A surprise.  
  
  
  
"He kissed me as if he was kissing me goodbye. Who  
  
knows. Maybe he was. Maybe this is goodbye. He said  
  
that if he had that year back again he would do things  
  
different... Maybe he meant that he would never have  
  
allowed himself to fall in love with me. Maybe he  
  
wishes that I would have never entered his life.  
  
Regrets... So many regrets..."  
  
  
  
She never looked at me once during her little speech.  
  
I don't know if she even really knew that I was there.  
  
A tear rolled down her cheek and I can honestly say  
  
that in that moment I knew, for the very first time  
  
despite my time with and without Rachel, that my heart  
  
just broke.  
  
  
  
I couldn't play the tough uncaring guy any longer. Her  
  
pain was my pain and I didn't want to feel that pain  
  
any longer.  
  
  
  
I merely reached out for her, tugged her close with an  
  
arm around her waist, rested her cheek against my  
  
shoulder and hugged her with as much feeling, love and  
  
protection that I thought ever existed in my soul.  
  
  
  
Her grip on my jacket was tight. She was drowning. The  
  
only thing that mattered to me was to save her from  
  
the depths she found herself in.  
  
  
  
I really don't know what I said to her, or what I said  
  
to those around me. I can't remember much except for  
  
the lump I found wedged in my throat all the ride back  
  
to my apartment, that and her small, but deadly,  
  
strong fists clasped against my chest and the wet  
  
tracks her tears made down the front of my shirt.  
  
  
  
I can't imagine myself whispering soothingly in her  
  
ear, but I must have done. She rewarded me with a  
  
small smile when I opened the door to my place and  
  
half carried her inside. She was in bad shape. I knew  
  
that. And that's what I keep telling myself to justify  
  
why I took her home with me in the first place. She  
  
was in bad shape and she needed someone just like  
  
herself to understand what it meant to think you've  
  
lost the love of your life. Afterall, I had ample  
  
experience in that area, despite her not knowing that.  
  
Thinking those thoughts her words brought me out of  
  
the fog that I was in.  
  
  
  
"...I never thought you would understand," she was  
  
saying to me while looking into my eyes with an  
  
expression of wonderment on her face. "I guess your  
  
time with Rachel taught you that you have to take the  
  
moment when it presents itself to you, and not to wait  
  
\- for anything."  
  
  
  
What was she saying? She meant Logan, right? She  
  
shouldn't have waited with Logan, for Logan. She  
  
should have taken her chance. That's what she meant. I  
  
knew that's what she meant but I wanted her to mean  
  
something else, something different, something else  
  
entirely different.  
  
  
  
I couldn't help myself. I leaned forward and I kissed  
  
her. I'm vaguely aware of reaching out. I seem to  
  
faintly recall my grabbing her by the biceps, gently  
  
pulling her towards me and sinking my lips onto her  
  
own. And beyond everything else I recall the taste,  
  
that sweetness and I don't mean sweetness as in  
  
"chaste" but literally the taste of sugar or syrup or  
  
honey, a sweetness on her lips that made me want  
  
nothing but to sweep my tongue across them time and  
  
time again to gather all the nectar that must has  
  
resided there. Oh God.  
  
  
  
God oh god oh god.  
  
  
  
My lips were on fire.  
  
  
  
I was burning from within.  
  
  
  
I was pure heat, liquid heat and she did nothing to  
  
extinguish me.  
  
  
  
She should have. She should have doused me with her  
  
anger.  
  
  
  
But all she gave me was her shock and her confusion.  
  
  
  
I don't know how long I was pressed against her. It  
  
was both too long and not nearly long enough. It could  
  
never be long enough.  
  
  
  
A small gasp sent a breath across my cheek, enough to  
  
dampen the flames that had begun to blaze there and  
  
cause me to pull back. If only slightly.  
  
  
  
I thought about apologising. I really did. I thought  
  
about saying something lame like, "Max, I'm so sorry.  
  
I never meant for that to happen." I thought about it,  
  
but that was all. There was no way I was going to out  
  
and out lie to her. Of course I meant for that to  
  
happen. It may have been evil, greedy, selfish,  
  
opportunistic, hell I didn't care what it was, but it  
  
was not a mistake and I was not sorry. So while I  
  
thought about being noble and saintly and tempering my  
  
desires for the sake of decency I decided to hell with  
  
being moral and righteous and noble and a gentleman  
  
and all those other worldly charms that made nice guys  
  
like Logan finish last and I kissed her again.  
  
  
  
And this time she kissed me back.  
  
  
  
But to say she kissed me back would once again be a  
  
lie. She didn't kiss me, she devoured me. She took  
  
possession of my lips, of my tongue and my mouth with  
  
such force that I thought she was trying to suck the  
  
life right out of me. The heat, the flavour... If this  
  
was drowning then I wanted to drown right then and  
  
there. There would be no question that I would die  
  
that death if she had continued her fevered  
  
plundering. Tongues sliding, lips groping, suction,  
  
nipping, biting, soothing. Oh god I wanted to climb  
  
down her throat. I knew every part of her mouth, my  
  
hands buried themselves deep within her hair, helping  
  
to anchor my lips to hers. We tilted and we breathed  
  
as one and there was no way, no way on earth or in the  
  
heavens and universe above that I was ever going to  
  
let go.  
  
  
  
I have never before felt such total possession over  
  
another human being. I owned her in that moment. My  
  
hands branded her scalp, my lips seared hers. I felt  
  
like climbing inside her skin was the only thing that  
  
could save me from total molecular destruction. How on  
  
earth could I describe what she was doing to me. It  
  
was both the very best and worst of pleasure and pain.  
  
And the only words I could say to her, were, "Oh,  
  
Max."  
  
  
  
To which she began to reply, "Loga-."  
  
  
  
I wasn't surprised. She wore a dazed look on her face  
  
ever since I first noticed her staring at work in the  
  
morning. She was lost in her own world of grief. And  
  
to be honest I knew that. I did. I admit it. But hey,  
  
it didn't make a damn bit of difference at the time.  
  
I'd abandoned all those noble ideals, ethics were out  
  
the window, righteousness and morality were long since  
  
forgotten, remember? So I leaned in once more, except  
  
this time I pushed my whole body towards her. Our  
  
chests collapsed against one another, our legs rubbed  
  
and entwined and the friction we caused with other  
  
parts of our body nearly sent me exploding like a  
  
super nova.  
  
  
  
Nearly.  
  
  
  
My tongue swept over the insides of her cheeks and my  
  
thumbs brushed so heavily over her cheeks that I'm  
  
sure if she weren't part mutant there would have been  
  
bruises. My ears seem to be exploding every second or  
  
so with the sheer intensity of my heart beat  
  
resounding in their drums. It seemed like every  
  
synapse that my body possessed was firing  
  
simultaneously. Nothing had ever compared to this  
  
moment. It was like I was being born and dying at the  
  
same time. Had Manticore planned this all along? Were  
  
the sensations I was feeling part of their sick  
  
experiments? Had they genetically matched us so that  
  
our coupling would produce these results? Or was it  
  
our souls and not our bodies that were producing such  
  
a miracle that one would be forced to describe it as  
  
also a curse.  
  
  
  
It was a curse.  
  
  
  
No doubt about that. There was no way that I could  
  
ever live my life without this feeling. If I was to  
  
stop I would die. Sure of that as I was that I was  
  
sitting there. To be denied this would be death. Game  
  
over. End of Story. That's all she wrote. This had to  
  
be something Manticore designed. To become totally  
  
dependent on another X5 what a great way to keep us  
  
together and hence easier to find. That had to be it.  
  
Right?  
  
  
  
Nothing felt more right than her gasp when I brought  
  
my hand down and cupped her breast. She arched so  
  
deeply into my hand that my other hand was forced to  
  
leave her hair to provide balance against the back of  
  
the sofa. Her fullness seemed to swell against my  
  
fingertips. Her passion seemed to mirror my own. But I  
  
wondered, as her hands suddenly found themselves on my  
  
arms, on my chest, hands tracing the lines of my jaw,  
  
was it passion that she was feeling?  
  
  
  
Passion. Desire. Want. Need.  
  
  
  
I felt all those feelings and so many more that were  
  
indescribable. I had been with other X5's when they  
  
were in heat and although some would argue that there  
  
were all the above emotions coursing through their  
  
systems during that "time for them, after their 'heat'  
  
period had passed, our coupling would all but be  
  
remembered as being passionate, desired, or wanted. It  
  
was duty.  
  
  
  
Duty.  
  
  
  
Obedience.  
  
  
  
Loyalty.  
  
  
  
Servitude.  
  
  
  
So while Max's hand slipped towards my desire for her,  
  
I had to wonder. Was it really passion? Was it regret?  
  
I'm no Logan. But I never thought that Max was a "any  
  
port in a storm" kind of girl. Hell, I know she isn't.  
  
There's no way she was thinking of me as a substitute  
  
for Logan. She thought I *was* Logan. In her grief,  
  
somehow she had transformed me into him.  
  
  
  
I could have made her believe.  
  
  
  
I could have turned out the lights, shrouded us in  
  
darkness and then I could have been anyone she damn  
  
well wanted me to be. She'd never been intimate with  
  
him, fucked his brains out, whatever you want to call  
  
it. She would never know the familiar feel of his lips  
  
on her nipple, the pressure his fingers used in  
  
coaxing her towards her release. I could impersonate  
  
him. Hell, it was one of my training courses -  
  
assuming identities, adopting disguises, passing  
  
yourself for something you're not. Useful tools as a  
  
Manticore soldier. I was a top student. I proved my  
  
effectiveness with Rachel and her father. I was a damn  
  
good soldier. Thorough. Sentimental, yes, but  
  
thorough. I could have fooled her... yeah, even her.  
  
  
  
But I couldn't fool myself.  
  
  
  
If it was just about need; if it was only about  
  
desire, then what was I doing here with her? I could  
  
sate my desire, satisfy my "needs" in any number of  
  
ways with any number of women. I could have fooled her  
  
into thinking it was Logan's hands that were stroking  
  
her thighs, his tongue that was delving into her belly  
  
button, but that's not what I wanted.  
  
  
  
I wanted her to know it was me pleasuring her. I  
  
wanted her to find her release while breathing my  
  
name, not the name of a ghost, the Logan of Christmas  
  
past, impossible future - whatever.  
  
  
  
I wanted her eyes to speak of my worthiness... fuck.  
  
  
  
I wanted to hear one word. One word would have done  
  
it. One fucking word.  
  
  
  
"Alec."  
  
  
  
She would name me and I really would have been born.  
  
The day she named me at Manticore was probably my  
  
conception if you want to get all psycho analytical  
  
about it. She had planted the seeds, the thought of me  
  
existing as an individual, a human being with his own  
  
personality, his own right to life. But to hear her  
  
say my name, in the throes of passion, in ecstasy,  
  
while she came so hard from her orgasm that she saw  
  
stars, that would be my birth. I would have arrived in  
  
this world, right at that moment.  
  
  
  
My whole fucking existence would have been  
  
acknowledged. By someone. By the only one.  
  
  
  
And all of the pain of living, all of the misery, that  
  
I had never known until she was the one to show me  
  
otherwise would have been worth it at that moment.  
  
  
  
At the moment she said my name.  
  
  
  
"Logan," she whispered, as my hand snaked between her  
  
legs.  
  
  
  
Shit.  
  
  
  
If ever a male Manticore soldier such as myself had  
  
felt like crying, it was then.  
  
  
  
Who was I kidding.  
  
  
  
I couldn't do this, just as I knew that she shouldn't  
  
do this.  
  
  
  
I pushed her away from me.  
  
  
  
"No."  
  
  
  
That was all that was needed. One simple word. One  
  
forced simple word, that seem to shock her to her  
  
senses.  
  
  
  
I looked into her eyes. Really looked into her eyes,  
  
for the first time since we had been in my apartment.  
  
  
  
"We can't do this." I said.  
  
  
  
And I hated myself for saying it. For so many reason,  
  
Of course we could do it, if only we denied that we  
  
each had a soul for a moment or two. Of course we  
  
could do this if there was no way we'd ever remember  
  
it afterwards, but there was no way that was ever  
  
going to be likely. Of course we could do this, if Max  
  
was still immersed in her grief-induced delusion that  
  
made her think that I was the love of her life. I  
  
hated myself for saying those words to her for all  
  
those reasons - but mostly because it released the  
  
tears that now flowed freely down her cheeks.  
  
  
  
She was crying.  
  
  
  
She was sobbing.  
  
  
  
She was breaking.  
  
  
  
She was dying.  
  
  
  
And there was nothing I could do to resurrect her...  
  
because I wasn't Logan.  
  
  
  
"I can't believe I..." she trailed off.  
  
  
  
"No. Max, *you* didn't." I began  
  
  
  
"I can't believe... Logan... Oh god..."  
  
  
  
Talk about crushing a guy's ego. But I knew how she  
  
felt.  
  
  
  
She loathed herself.  
  
  
  
Betrayed.  
  
  
  
She had betrayed him, or she thought she had betrayed  
  
him.  
  
  
  
Just like I felt like I had betrayed Rachel. The  
  
difference being she had an excuse and I didn't. "I  
  
was just following orders," just doesn't seem to cut  
  
it in retrospect, not when you were talking about one  
  
of the people you had loved during your lifetime.  
  
  
  
"How could I?" she was asking herself. Funny. I had  
  
asked myself that same question.  
  
  
  
"Max-" I tried.  
  
  
  
"He'll never forgive me... forgiveness... huh... I  
  
have no right to ask for his forgiveness..."  
  
  
  
And that's when I couldn't stand it.  
  
  
  
That's when it happened.  
  
  
  
I killed myself. Right then. Right there. I made the  
  
decision to lay my life, my existence on the line. I  
  
took a bullet. And I welcomed the pain. Hit directly  
  
through the heart. I could not allow her to blame  
  
herself for something that was not her fault. She  
  
hadn't planned it. She hadn't asked for it. Hell, she  
  
hadn't even thought about being with me, she had been  
  
thinking about *him* all the damn time. And yet she  
  
was taking full responsibility. Forgiveness? She was  
  
asking for his forgiveness? I should have been begging  
  
for her forgiveness.  
  
  
  
There was no way she was going to release herself from  
  
the self torment that was going to follow. I knew -  
  
from experience I knew this. It was always going to  
  
haunt her. She would lie awake at night and think of  
  
this time. She would hate herself, loath herself,  
  
question her place on the face of the earth, question  
  
her place in the lives of those around her, one person  
  
in particular, question her very existence. And no  
  
matter what she did from now on she would force  
  
herself to try and measure up somehow... whatever she  
  
did she would compare it to this moment... the one  
  
moment when she truly failed... failed him... failed  
  
her... failed their future.  
  
  
  
Unless...  
  
  
  
Unless I could make this not about *her*. Not about  
  
what she did or didn't do... If it wasn't about her  
  
then she couldn't fail. She wouldn't be measuring  
  
herself against her actions. She wouldn't be  
  
questioning herself for the rest of hr life. She  
  
wouldn't need to avoid Logan's gaze for fear of what  
  
he may see lurking in her eyes... for fear that he may  
  
see the horrendous truth about herself... for fear  
  
that he wouldn't look back at her with forgiveness. He  
  
could forgive her ... if this wasn't about her. She  
  
could forgive herself if it wasn't about herself.  
  
  
  
And so I died a death ... as I have lived a life.  
  
  
  
I took her.  
  
  
  
There are no words other than those to describe it. I  
  
made this all about me, not her. The hate she would  
  
feel would now be for me, not herself. The hate that  
  
Logan would feel would now be for me. I sanctified her  
  
at he same time as damning myself. It was what I had  
  
always hoped for... but it was also the things my  
  
nightmares were made of. I can't describe what  
  
happened, other than to say it was torture. More so  
  
for her than for me. Having someone dominate you like  
  
I did her would have to have been worse - no question.  
  
But I wasn't surprised to find that through my grunts,  
  
my tears mingled with her own. My eyes screwed  
  
themselves shut as tightly in force as every part of  
  
her body did... And as much as she hated me, as much  
  
as she protested, fought, screamed, begged, cursed, it  
  
was not nearly as much as I screamed and cursed and  
  
even begged myself deep down inside.  
  
  
  
A part of me wished that I could have enjoyed a single  
  
moment of the experience but that would never be the  
  
case. As my release came upon me, my hands tired from  
  
their grip on her wrists, there was no sense of  
  
fulfilment other than it was finally over.  
  
  
  
Over...  
  
  
  
Everything was over.  
  
  
  
Any chance I had at being a friend of hers... over.  
  
  
  
Any chance I had of living a normal life... over.  
  
  
  
Any chance of ever being her saviour was over.  
  
  
  
I thought I was... saving her, that is. Saving her  
  
from herself. But as she cried, her heart breaking in  
  
tones that could never be heard with the perceived  
  
loss of Logan's love, there was no way that she was  
  
saved.  
  
  
  
She was as damned as I was.  
  
  
  
No. I had damned her more.  
  
  
  
What had I been thinking?  
  
  
  
There was no way that she could hate me more than I  
  
hate myself.  
  
  
  
She cried , sobbed and the rest of me, the remnants of  
  
my being, shattered when she dressed and fled. She  
  
knew. I knew.  
  
  
  
So much pain.  
  
  
  
Pain that would never go away.  
  
  
  
And I shall die a death as I have lived a life...  
  
  
  


The End


End file.
